Bedtime

Why is it that the more tired I am, the longer it takes for my kids to go to sleep?

Today I worked until 6:20 p.m., then went to a Relay for Life captain’s meeting and finally stopped by the grocery store (forgetting the main thing I went for, of course) before finally making it home around 8:30 p.m. My husband and I wolfed down dinner, he bathed the kids while I got together everyone’s clothing for tomorrow, and we finally settled down to put the kids to bed a little after 10 (my husband with our daughter and I with our son).

Since that was a bit later than usual, I thought two books and Anthony (and probably me, too) would be out like a light.

No such luck.

He tossed. He turned. And, above all, he talked.

“Anthony, please go to sleep,” I begged after 20 minutes, myself exhausted and knowing I still had chores I wanted to get done before settling in to slumber.

“I don’t want sleep,” he said. “I want talk.”

He then proceeded to point to nearly everything in the room and remark on its shape (it was hard to discourage him – I was actually impressed at how many shapes he knows for a 2-year-old) and when he lost interest in that, he held up his stuffed kitty and told me all its anatomical parts (including some that the cat doesn’t visibly have – let’s just say that apparently Kitty’s a boy).

Finally, after I denied his request to “tell me a story” three times, his eyelids started to close. He reached out for my hand, and the next thing I knew, my husband was waking me up, with my little guy fast asleep beside me.